Maybe You're Not So Bad After All
by jellinor
Summary: The National Tournament is over. Akaya sulks, and An slowly warms up to the idea of her arch-nemesis as an actual human being. Sequel of sorts to What I Like About You.


Author's Note: I know that I advertised **What I Like About You** as a one-shot, and I honestly meant to leave it like that, but then I started thinking and things got out of hand. This is it, though. There will be no more.

Set after Seigaku defeats Rikkai Dai at the Nationals, and although you don't have to read **WILAY** first, it sort of helps.

Disclaimer: _The Prince of Tennis_ is not mine, folks.

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><p><strong>Maybe You're Not So Bad After All<strong>

-#-

It's not as if she goes out of her way to look for him (she isn't even trying and that's a fact!), so when she slips outside to get away from the crowd, it's definitely not her intention to actually find him.

But even with his back turned, sitting on the narrow steps leading up to the arena, all alone and hunched over like a soggy mustard pretzel, body language transmitting unholy levels of 'fuck off, I'm sulking', Kirihara is kind of really hard to miss.

(And all that stupid seaweed hair doesn't exactly help, either. Boy really needs a haircut.)

She hesitates. She doesn't owe him a thing, except for maybe a good kick to the shins for all the trouble he keeps making. But now that she has seen him, it seems wrong somehow to just leave without saying anything.

"Hey."

She doesn't sit down, because that would make them equals, sort of, and she doesn't think she's ready for that just yet. But she stops close enough to make it clear that the greeting was meant for him.

Kirihara doesn't look up. He doesn't seem to react to her presence at all, and An has almost given up on it completely when he mutters, "…if you've come here to gloat, I'm not in the mood."

He tries to sound his usual snarky self, but the effort is hollow. Kirihara sounds small and mad and defeated, and An decides that she likes him better like this.

"You really hate losing that much, huh," she observes matter-of-factly.

He snorts. "Doesn't everyone?"

An wisely refrains from arguing the point. After all, she willingly surrounds herself with some of the planet's sorest losers on a near daily basis, and even her own brother's much admired kindness doesn't quite extend to letting her win at cards. "So what are you doing anyway?" she asks, casually looking around for other yellow uniforms but spotting none. "Your team finally saw the light and ditched you?"

That has him looking up, and she can feel the resentment rolling off of him in thick waves, but she meets his glare head on. If Kirihara wants to feel sorry for himself like a little kid, then that's fine. Just not on her watch.

"…you wish, Tachibana," is his lame reply, but at least he is trying and that makes his eyes look a little less empty.

She humours him with a snort of her own, if only because he accidentally slipped up and actually used her real name for once.

(He must be in even worse shape than she thought.)

She shrugs off a sudden twinge of sympathy, and decides that in interrupting Kirihara's pathetic one-man pity party, she has accomplished her good deed for the day. Her work here is done, and she is just about to make her excuses and go back inside when he unexpectedly opens his mouth and somehow manages to string together two whole sentences that are neither openly demeaning nor rude:

"I'm waiting for the bus. We'll be heading back in a bit."

An blames it on a severe attack of what-the-heck-was-_that_-all-about when she plops down on the step just above his.

"That was some final," she says at last, just for the sake of saying something. She doesn't really have any experience in being civilized around Kirihara, but figures that since they have some common ground in tennis, she might as well try that. "Especially the last match. Yukimura-san was really something else."

Kirihara gives her a long, calculating look. "First time?" he guesses, and for some reason he doesn't even sound condescending.

"Y-Yeah."

(Honestly, it freaks her out a little just how normal it feels talking to him like this.)

"Heh. This wasn't even his best, you know," he confides in her in a low voice. "You should've seen him a year ago. Today doesn't even come close."

(It almost makes her laugh, the way he comes alive as he brags about his captain – colour seeps back onto his cheeks, his gestures become animated, there is a sparkle in his eye and she can swear that even his hair looks bouncier – and An can't help but to wonder if perhaps she has been wrong about him. Perhaps Kirihara was human all along.)

"Trust me, today doesn't compare. Buchou—" He stops. "You'd never guess that he was dying in a hospital bed just a few months ago, would you?" He looks away. "That Echizen put on a heck of a show, but buchou… buchou _deserved_ to win."

An looks at him curiously, and suddenly she gets it.

All this. Everything. It was never about winning or losing the Tournament.

Kirihara, who is the most selfish, arrogant, infuriating person she has ever met, would have thrown away his school's chances at winning the Championship for his captain winning a single match.

(And he would have done so happily, and with pride.)

It's a realization that hits her hard, and she doesn't know quite what to do with it. Luckily, his phone rings.

"_Moshi moshi__.__"_

(She is unsurprised to find that the case is black and yellow with little red stars... Honestly, what a dork.)

"_Hai, senpai. I'll be right there."_

Kirihara puts the phone back into his pocket. "The bus," he explains, getting to his feet.

An nods and stands up, too. "I think we'll be staying for a while," she says, dusting herself off. "You know, Seigaku…"

She's asking for trouble now, and she half-expects him to ruin everything by saying something mean, but if Kirihara has any thoughts on her school's good relations with the tournament winners, he keeps them to himself. As it is, he slips the strap to his tennis bag over his shoulder and starts walking off in the direction of the car park.

He's leaving her behind like the jerk that she knows he is, but something tells her that she shouldn't let it end like this.

"Hey! Wait a minute!" she calls after him, frantically digging into her backpack. "Kirihara, catch!"

She throws the can of iced coffee (old, lukewarm coffee now, she supposes) from the day before at his head, and he gets hold of it without any difficulty.

"I told you that I hate coffee, right? But my brother always says not to waste food." An flashes him a confident, toothy grin. "For the road, okay?"

The look on Kirihara's face when he finally recognizes the canister is _priceless_.

Then he smiles back.


End file.
